


Everytime I Look For You

by kjack89



Series: High School AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire makes a hasty exit the morning after he spends the night at Enjolras's house, and Enjolras tries to track him down to explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everytime I Look For You

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Enjolras woke the next morning to find Grantaire pressed against him, his own arms wrapped around Grantaire’s waist. For a moment, his breath hitched, and he pressed a soft kiss to Grantaire’s forehead. Grantaire’s eyelashes fluttered against Enjolras’s chest as he blinked into waking. “Izzit morning?” he muttered blearily.

Chuckling slightly, Enjolras kissed him again, untangling their limbs. “It is, but you can go back to sleep. I gotta talk to my parents.”

“Mmm,” Grantaire hummed, eyes already closing as Enjolras slipped out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and pulling them on before heading to the kitchen, where he could already smell the breakfast his dad was busy cooking.

“Morning, sweetie,” his mom said, looking up from her newspaper and setting her coffee cup down on the kitchen table. “How did you sleep?”

Enjolras grabbed his own coffee mug, turning his back so that he could fill it, willing the back of his neck to not turn red. “Um, about that. Grantaire…well, he kind of snuck into my room and spent the night.”

There was silence and Enjolras held his breath, waiting for his parents’ response. “Care to repeat that?” his dad said, voice gruff.

Sighing, Enjolras bit his lip and turned around. “Look, his parents kicked him out of the house and…and they beat him, Dad, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just make him leave.”

“No, that is true,” Enjolras’s dad acknowledged softly, almost reluctantly. “Where is he now?”

Enjolras wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and stared down into the liquid. “He’s still up in my room,” he told them, and then added, quietly, “I told him that he could stay. With us.”

There was another long pause and Enjolras glanced up nervously, watching as his parents had a silent conversation. “You told him he could stay here?” his dad asked, finally. “For how long?”

Shrugging, Enjolras bit his lip and said awkwardly, “Well, I, um, sort of didn’t put an end date on it. But he can, right? You’ll let him stay? Because we have plenty of room, and he has nowhere else to go, and—”

Enjolras’s mom exchanged a look with his dad. “Sweetie, it’s a little more complicated than just us saying that he can stay here—” she started, but Enjolras shook his head firmly.

“How?” he challenged, his eyes dark. “How is it more complicated than that? They  _beat_  him, Mom, and you can’t make him go back to that. You can’t.”

“And we won’t,” Enjolras’s dad cut in. “We won’t make him go back to that, but the answer is not to just have him stay with us. There’s more that needs to be considered, arrangements that will need to be made.”

Enjolras clenched his jaw determinedly. “Why isn’t that the answer?” he insisted. “We have plenty of room, and it’s not as if Grantaire is going to be in the way. Besides, this is half my fault, and I know that we can help him.”

Enjolras’s mom frowned. “As you said, this is half your fault, and your father and I aren’t necessarily comfortable with the idea of the person you were caught…doing  _things_  with moving into our house. Not to mention that we don’t even know this boy, don’t know anything about him, and again, we’re not necessarily comfortable with having a complete stranger come and stay with us.”

“He’s not a stranger to me,” Enjolras said softly. “He’s my…he’s my boyfriend.”

“And we’re happy that you’ve found someone.” Enjolras’s dad’s voice was just as soft as his son’s, but he exchanged another look with his wife before adding, “But you can’t just expect us to take a complete stranger into our household, when the only thing we know about him is that before you met him, you never got caught doing…what you were doing.”

All three stopped and turned when they heard someone clear his throat, and they saw Grantaire standing awkwardly in the doorway, hair mussed, wearing one of Enjolras’s debate team hoodies. “I don’t need to stay,” he said quietly. “Thank you for letting me stay last night, and I’ll be gone just as soon as I get my stuff together.”

Enjolras looked up at him, stricken. “Grantaire—” he started, but Grantaire turned and left without once meeting his gaze. He looked back at his parents, who both at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, if unwilling to back down, and Enjolras set his coffee mug on the counter so hard that it almost cracked before taking off after Grantaire.

He ended up half-chasing Grantaire down the street, calling out, “Grantaire!  _Grantaire_!”

Grantaire didn’t stop, still walking, his shoulders hunched and tense, and when Enjolras finally caught up with him, he kept his eyes firmly staring straight ahead. “What do you want, Enjolras?”

“I want you to stop and talk to me!” Enjolras snapped, frustrated far more with the situation than with Grantaire.

Grantaire’s jaw jutted determinedly and he said, voice almost numb, “Well, funnily enough, I have no desire to either stop or to talk with you, because I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but I have to try and find somewhere to live.”

Enjolras stopped, hurt flashing across his face. “I tried,” he said quietly. “Don’t give up on this. Not yet. We can go back, talk to them again—”

Stopping abruptly, Grantaire took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Did you mean what you said about being my boyfriend?” he asked softly, eyes searching Enjolras’s.

Enjolras frowned. “Of course I did.” He bit his lip. “I mean, maybe not until last night, until everything—”

Snorting, Grantaire snapped, “You mean, not until you found out that I was damaged, that I needed your help.”

“Of course not!” Enjolras protested, but Grantaire just shook his head and started to turn away. Enjolras reached out and grabbed his arm. “Grantaire, wait—”

Grantaire shook Enjolras’s hand off. “I don’t need a savior, Enjolras,” he said, sounding more tired and sad than anything else. “I don’t need to be your cause. I just need…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras asked softly, “What do you need?”

Grantaire just looked at him for a long moment then dropped his eyes, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said honestly. “It never has. I’ll be fine.”

Then he was gone, walking away, backpack thrown over his shoulder, still wearing Enjolras’s hoodie, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and Enjolras, at a loss for what to do, just watched him go.

* * *

 

Since Grantaire was suspended, Enjolras didn’t see him at school on Monday (of course, since Enjolras was in in-school suspension, he didn’t really see anyone, but he had gotten used to seeing Grantaire in the mornings before school without even realizing it). In fact, as he sat in the small classroom used for in-school suspension, he couldn’t seem to keep Grantaire off his mind.

He could only assume that Grantaire had found somewhere to go, to Eponine’s, maybe, as he had said, but it hadn’t stopped Enjolras from worrying about him all weekend (hadn’t stopped him from texting Grantaire constantly once he got his phone back from his parents, even though Grantaire never once texted him back).

Scowling down at his math book and the chapter he was supposed to be studying, Enjolras ran a frustrated hand through his hair and sighed. He heard a snigger from his right and glanced over to see some guy laughing at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” the guy asked, grinning at him as he ran a hand through his own dark hair.

“Nothing,” Enjolras snapped after glancing at the class monitor, who was not paying them any attention. He looked closer at the guy, who he didn’t think he had ever seen before, though he was pretty sure he knew who it was still. “Are you…Montparnasse?”

The guy leaned back in his chair, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “I see my reputation precedes me,” he said coolly. “No need to ask who you are, since yours precedes you as well, though I am curious how Enjolras-the-perfect managed to land himself in in-school.”

Enjolras frowned. “It’s a long story.” He licked his lips, considering, and then asked in what he hoped was an off-handed manner, “You know Eponine, right?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Montparnasse’s grin turned feral. “It all depends on what you’re going to give me in exchange for that information.”

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Really? You’re really going to play this game?” When Montparnasse just continued grinning at him, Enjolras heaved a sigh. “Fine. What do you want from me?”

Montparnasse leaned forward. “Full confession of what you did to land yourself in here. Signed and dated.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What, are you going to hold on to it and use for blackmail or something?”

“Maybe. That’s for me to know and for you to lose sleep over worrying about.”

Grinding his teeth together, Enjolras closed his eyes for a brief moment, considering it. “Fine,” he snapped. “Full written confession in exchange for you telling me where I can find Eponine.”

“Done.” Montparnasse watched with eager anticipation as Enjolras quickly scribbled out his confession, signing it with a flourish and handing it to Montparnasse, who scanned it quickly, his eyes widening. “Oh my. I guess you aren’t perfect after all. I consider this a worthy trade.”

Even though Enjolras was blushing furiously, he still gritted his teeth and said in a low voice, “You got what you wanted, now give me what I want.”

Montparnasse grinned, grabbing a spare piece of paper and scribbling an address on it. “Worth every word,” he told Enjolras as he handed it over.

“For you, maybe,” Enjolras groused, but his eyes were drinking in the address printed on the page, memorizing it before he folded it up and slipped it in his pocket. “Thanks.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Montparnasse told him, stretching so that his t-shirt rose up a few inches, revealing smooth skin. “You know,” he said, leaning forward and propping his chin on his hand as he raked his dark eyes up and down Enjolras’s body in a way that made Enjolras blush even redder, “there’s a few hours left until the end of the school day, and if you wanted to do something to keep yourself occupied, we could also do a repeat performance of what got you in here in the first place.”

Enjolras just stared at him. “Yeah. I think not.”

Montparnasse shrugged and winked. “Your loss.”

Turning back to his desk, Enjolras stared down at his math book, still without seeing it, but now with something different to obsess about for the next few hours.

* * *

 

Enjolras wasted no time in heading to the address Montparnasse had provided once he got out of school, though he did obediently text his parents to tell them he’d be home late (they’d be pissed, but Enjolras really could not give a shit at this point). It was in what could only be described as the shady side of town, and Enjolras felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he jogged across the street to the address on the slip of paper still in his jeans pocket.

With only a second’s hesitation Enjolras knocked on the door, hoping that it would be either Eponine or Grantaire who answered. Instead, a small, grubby-looking kid answered the door, looking up at him and also looking distinctly unimpressed. “Who’re you?” he asked.

Enjolras frowned. “I’m, uh, I’m Enjolras. I’m a friend of Eponine’s.”

“‘Ponine’s never mentioned no ‘jolras,” the kid said mildly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Who’re you really?”

Frowning even deeper, Enjolras ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m a friend of Grantaire’s, and I was told that he may be here, and—”

“Oh, you’re  _Taire’s_  friend!” the kid exclaimed, brightening instantly. “Come on in, he’s just been watching TV all day when he was ‘sposed to be watching me.”

Enjolras followed the kid into the house, subconsciously pulling his backpack closer to him as his eyes drifted around the hallway warily. Then they were in a dingy living room, and he could just make out Grantaire’s face from where he was cocooned in a ratty afghan. “Grantaire,” Enjolras said, his voice rushing out in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

Grantaire sat bolt upright. “Enjolras? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Enjolras’s eyes widened and he looked pointedly at the kid. “Language,” he hissed. “There’s a child present.”

“Gavroche?” Grantaire laughed, though his mirth seemed to ring slightly false to Enjolras. “He’s heard worse. Trust me on that. Isn’t that right?”

“Damn straight,” Gavroche replied cheerfully. He narrowed his eyes at Enjolras. “You want me to leave ya alone?”

Grantaire looked thoughtfully at Enjolras, and after a long moment sighed. “Yeah, clear out, kid. He and I have to talk.” Once Gavroche had scampered from the room, Grantaire sat forward, frowning as he looked at Enjolras. “What are you doing here?”

Frowning as well, Enjolras said softly, “I was worried about you. Am I not allowed to be worried about you? Especially since we didn’t exactly leave things on a good note?”

“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” Grantaire asked, though without much heat. “Before any of this happened, I was good for a quick fuck in a broom closet, but once I became damaged, once I was weak in your eyes, then all of a sudden you wanted to be my boyfriend? Because I call bullshit on that one.”

“It’s not like that,” Enjolras snapped, sitting down next to Grantaire, though his tone softened when Grantaire flinched. “Come on, Grantaire. You  _know_ it’s not like that. Before…we didn’t have anything to lose when we were just fooling around, but now…” His eyes hardened. “When I heard what your parents had done to you, had done to you because of  _me_ …my god, I was so scared that night. So scared for you. So scared for  _us_. The thought that I could lose you…”

He blushed and looked down, taking a ragged breath before saying softly, “You’re right, it wasn’t until then that I realized that I wanted you, but it’s not because you need me. It’s because  _I_  need  _you_.”

There was a long pause before Grantaire scrambled over to him, pulling him into a hug. “Jesus, Enj,” he whispered, holding him as tightly as he could (Enjolras was careful of the still-healing welts on Grantaire’s back). “Jesus, you actually believe that, don’t you?”

“What, you don’t?” Enjolras asked, his lips ghosting against Grantaire’s neck.

“Honestly…” Grantaire pulled away slightly, indecision written all over his face. “Honestly, I’ve never really believed in anything. And the idea of starting with believing that you want me, that you  _need_  me…that’s a pretty big thing for me to try and wrap my head around.”

Enjolras reached out to cup his cheek, running his thumb across Grantaire’s cheekbone. “I realize that. And I don’t expect you to believe me right away. Just…give me a chance, will you? A chance to prove to you that I mean it?”

In answer, Grantaire leaned in, kissing him softly. He rested his forehead against Enjolras’s and murmured, “That doesn’t solve exactly what I’m supposed to do for, you know, living accommodations or whatever.”

“I know,” Enjolras said, closing his eyes. “Which is why I want to bring you home with me tonight. To actually meet my parents, to talk to them. They want to help, really, even if you don’t end up staying with me.”

Grantaire bit his lip. “I could just stay here,” he muttered. “Eponine has said that I can stay as long as I like, and my parents will probably let me come home eventually.”

Enjolras closed his hand around Grantaire’s wrist. “I won’t let you go back to them,” he said firmly. “Anything but that, Grantaire. Please.”

He slid his hand forward to lace his fingers with Grantaire’s, standing while still holding his hand. “Come home with me. Try this, with me. Give me a chance.”

Grantaire just stared up at him for a long time, and Enjolras held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Then Grantaire stood, leaning in and kissing him once more. “Ok,” he whispered, sounding more confident than he looked. “I’ll try.”


End file.
